The Volition: Part Two
by starkidmoonshoes
Summary: It's been a year since Draco and Hermione last saw each other, and not once have they stopped thinking about one another. But as the war continues, they learn that keeping the fire lit might tear everyone around them apart...including themselves. RATED M FOR NON-EXPLICIT SUGGESTIVE THEMES.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: Okay, here we have it guys! The first chapter to The Volition: Part 2. A lot to say here, guys. I've actually cried (happy tears) over the reviews for the first part and I've been so hesitant to make this next part because I want to make it as good as the last. Ok so this takes place about a year after where we left off. So guys get ready, and here we go. **

**Disclaimer: All characters and partial plot belong to J.K. Rowling.**

**Song of the Chapter: Safe and Sound by Taylor Swift feat. The Civil Wars**

It was calm.

Peaceful.

But the world around her was not. And more importantly her mind. It was lost. Like a forgotten feather of a Phoenix, holding so much value and purpose, but can easily be dropped in a murky puddle or among the many leaves that laid upon the forest they had apparated themselves into.

And what made things worse was that she wouldn't know when it would return, or even if she would live to have it back. Her sanity was almost tangible, like grasping out among the dense thicket of trees and reaching for it as if her life depended on it.

Which it did.

Hermione Granger could stare out into the trees for hours and hours at a time, but there were more important things to be doing. She walked up to her tent and parted the flap, to find Ron asleep in his bunk. His arm was bandaged tightly whilst the other one grasped it gently to his chest. The other day, as they escaped the Ministry of Magic, he was splinched. If it hadn't been for the Essence of Dittany, he would have bled out.

She pulled out a stool next to him, and moved a stray lock of hair from his face. Ron was handsome, kind, and a fighter. He was everything she needed in her life. Everything that was _right _to the naked eye.

But it was wrong.

Oh how wrong it felt.

Ron shifted slightly in his bunk, his head moving to the side and brushing against Hermione's palm. His eyes slowly opened, finding hers, and smiling softly. "Mione," he moaned.

"How are you feeling?" she asked. He moved his arm slightly, but quickly regretted it with a groan of pain. "Not so good," he complained, "Don't you have any more Dittany?"

"I used it all, and it won't work on bruises."

"Oh," Ron stated sadly, slightly pouting his lips. She had to, she was obliged to. She kissed his lips gently and let her forehead rest against his. She could feel him smiling again and pulled away. "You rest now, okay?"

"Alright," he said dreamily as he fell back to sleep. Hermione removed herself from the tent and went back outside to feel the cold late fall air. She felt a prescence behind her and turned slowly to meet Harry's depressing gaze. His green eyes shimmered in the light of the fire he had made, his hair gently moving west with the wind. He leaned back against the tree he rested against and beckoned Hermione to join him. She walked over and sat across from him, watching the fire dance in the reflection of his glasses.

"How long until he can move again?" he asked.

"I don't know. Could be a few days," she answered.

"We don't have a few day-"

"I know, just-just give him time. That's all I ask." Harry scoffed, shifting to his side and moving away from her. "Is that a problem?" Hermione pondered.

Harry toyed with two twigs on the ground and poked the fire. "He shouldn't be complaining so much, is all," Harry stated, "It was just a scratch."

"He was splinch-"

"But he doesn't exactly need to be treated like a patient! This is a war! Not some hospital where he gets checked on every 5 minutes!" Harry exclaimed in a hushed tone.

"I don't check on him every 5 minutes! He's hurt and I just help him with the pain."

"Whatever," Harry scoffed and poked at the fire again. Hermione waited for a moment before sitting up behind his hunched back and unlocking the locket from around his neck. He let it fall into her hand which held it tightly. She could see the tension drift away from his once tense form, his shoulders falling back loosely, and an even sigh coming from his throat.

"Better?"

"Yes."

"It was my turn, anyway," Hermione stated, locking the horcrux around her neck and letting the cool silver fall against her thin shirt. She moved back to her spot against the tree and leaned back against the jagged tree trunk. Her eyes wandered back to the broken boy silhouetted in front of the fire. There was so much a 17 year old boy shouldn't have to face, and his life at that moment, was all those things. Plus being hit by a truck coming 70 miles per hour.

She could say the same for herself as well. They were getting nowhere with their search, and as they days rolled by, things seemed to be getting harder and harder. Earlier that day, they had overheard on the radio that Hogwarts was being taken over by Deatheaters, and that student life was becoming difficult for their fellow peers. From torturing the first years, to muggleborns being treated like slaves. It wouldn't be cliché to say that the fate of the world was in their hands, because that was exactly how it felt. "Are you happy?" Harry suddenly asked. What a question that was. To ask if she was happy, so vague yet so simple. "What?" she asked rhetorically.

"Are you happy, Mione?"

"I'm...fine." Harry moved back to his spot on the tree and looked her directly in the eyes, giving her a knowing look. "Try that again," he asked again.

"Could be better, I suppose," she stated whilst plucking at a bit of grass.

"Is there anywhere you'd rather be?"

"To do what's right: No."

"And to do what's wrong?" he questioned.

"Absolutely," she thought aloud, not realizing she had said anything. She regretted it and looked up at Harry's already knowing face. His hand moved up to inside his coat pocket, and picked up a bit of parchment. He opened it, revealing a map of various towns and locations with red circles drawn around few, and lines connecting them all. She had thought she'd hidden it well, under the springs of the bunk bed hidden under Ron, and she didn't even want to know how Harry came upon it.

"What are you thinking, Hermione?"

"Trying to connect all Deatheater sightings. Trying to pinpoint where they might go next."

"Ron loves you, you know."

"I know," she sighed dejectedly, "I just-jus... I guess I'm not that happy."

"No one's happy. The only difference between you and the rest of the world is that we deal with it." Harry stood up and looked back down at her frustratingly, and walked abruptly away from the fire and in front of their tent. She should have expected this, but then again she didn't expect him to find her map. Harry was right. She should focus on the task at hand, not something as silly and deranged as this. It was a crazy plan she shouldn't have come up with in the first place. It would not only ruin whatever relationship she had with Ron and the close to falling apart friendship with Harry; it might even take a part of her with it.

"He's at Hogwarts," he stated.

Hermione looked up suddenly intrigued. "They say he's the new Head Boy," he said, "And he's safe there," before disappearing into the tent. A slow tear rolled down the corner of her eye, and a wide grin appeared on her face. She cupped her face in her hands and cried silently in relief.

_He_ was safe.

And with that, a small piece of her sanity returned to her, along with her heart.

* * *

Hermione didn't realize just how long she had sat there crying into her own hands. It was long enough that the fire had already gone out and it was nearly dawn. She told herself that it was okay to cry every once in a while, especially when Ron and Harry weren't around. She lifted her head and could see the faint orange glow from the horizon. The sun was already rising and she hadn't slept at all that night.

It didn't matter much to her anyway, since lately she couldn't sleep at all even from the warmth of her own bunk. There were far too many things she missed from her old life. Most of all was her parents. She had erased their memories and sent them away to Australia where they would have absolutely no recollection of their only daughter. The thing she feared the most was that she wouldn't be able to get to them again and recover those lost memories. She could just picture them happily enjoying their new home and new life, and taking that away from them for her own selfish needs was just unimaginable.

Hermione blocked the tears from escaping anymore and stood up groggily. She shouldn't have stayed up all night crying, it wasn't healthy. And hearing about Draco last night...

_No, not again._

"Crying again, Hermione? You really shouldn't."

The sudden voice echoed in her ears. She spun all around her, searching for the intruder with a wand out. She kept turning, panicked in search of anyone out there. Then she quickly peered into the tent only to find that Harry and Ron were still asleep.

"Hermione."

"Who's there?! I'm warning you, I-" But she stopped. Because directly in front of her stood Draco Malfoy. In the flesh.

"Impossible," the word escaped her tongue, "You're-you're at Hogwarts!"

"I'm well aware. Lower your wand, will you, love?" She shouldn't have lowered her wand so quickly, for this was obviously witchcraft and someone was trying to mess with her mind. However for some odd reason, she could not bring herself to keep it up.

"You're not him. It can't be."

"Of course I'm not him. You said it yourself, I'm at Hogwarts."

"The-then how are you here?"

"Isn't it obvious, Hermione?," he went on, stalking around her like prey, "You brought me here. For the brightest witch of our age you can be utterly slow."

"Well, it certainly sounds like you," she mumbled, "Are you saying this is all my imagination?"

"Theoretically, yes. And I humbly thank you for thinking of me at a time like this. I know you couldn't stay away," he said in a smug tone, and adding a wink, "It seems as though this is the time when you needed me the most, and by thinking of me-"

"I was able to conjure something that isn't actually there," she interrupted.

"_Someone_, Hermione. I just gave you a compliment, the least you could do is treat me like a person." Hermione had to stop herself from giving him a nasty look, for he was only a mere figment of her imagination. And by doing so, this meant she was talking to herself, and she has officially lost her sanity. "I've lost my mind," Hermione whispered and rest her hand on her forehead, finding that it was indeed slightly warm. She sat down on the nearest rock and kept her eyes off of Draco. "You haven't lost your mind, love. Otherwise you'd be off the nutter speaking gibberish."

"I'm talking to myself, Draco. I have indeed lost my mind."

"I don't think so. I actually think you've gained some of it back," he stated sitting on the rock beside her. She couldn't see the expression on his face, but could tell that he was worried. "How can I get you to leave?" Hermione asked.

"Just say when, love. But if you _really_ do want me to go, then why am I still here?"

Hermione looked up and turned to face him, not realizing how close he was in proximity. She wanted to reach out and rest her hand on his pale face, touch his silky hair and rest her head in the crook of his neck forever. "Can I touch you?" she asked.

"I don't think it works that way. But you can try." She reached out and just before she could touch his face, she paused and placed her hand back on her lap. "No, not yet," she suddenly realized.

"That's alright."

"Does the real Draco have visions of me too?"

"I don't know. But I'm pretty sure the reason you seeing me now is from spending so much time in this god forsaken forest."

"How long will you be here?"

"As long as you want me to be here."

"And if I wanted you to leave right now, will you come back?"

"If you want."

"I wish the real Draco was this submissive." Draco let out a soft chuckle and stood up to kneel in front of her. "What else is on your mind, Hermione?"

"Are you able to feel what the real Draco is feeling?"

"I don't think so. I think my abilities go just about as far as you know."

"Okay," Hermione said. She wanted to ask him so much more, but knew that this Draco would know nothing then what she already knows. Still, her heart ached even for this mere image of him. "I love you," she whispered.

"I love you too, Hermione."

Hermione looked at him skeptically and noted, "The real Draco never said that," as he turned around and made his move to leave.

"I know," Draco stated while retreating, "But I think that you've known that all along."

* * *

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	2. Chapter 2

**Song of the Chapter: Little House by Amanda Seyfried **

_Tap._

The glass vibrated atop the desk, shaking the small grains of sand that fell to the bottom.

_Tap._

The glass shook again.

_Tap._

He should really be more productive with his time.

Draco Malfoy's grey eyes peered out from being the hourglass as he watched all the bits of sand fall into place. He continued flicking at the glass until every last grain had fallen. He flipped it over again, and with a sigh, started again.

It was about two in the afternoon and Draco had not bothered to show up to any of his classes, or any meals. The whole day he stayed cooped up in the  
Headmaster's office, as he did the day before, and the day before that, and the day before that. What was the point of attending classes at this point? Class time consisted of watching Deatheater 'teachers' torture muggleborns every time they would answer a question wrong, or even answer right sometimes.

So, Draco basically never showed up to any classes, but it wasn't like anyone cared either.

Occasionally, though, he'd go to his common room and chat amongst his "friends." But even that didn't make the situation any better. Hogwarts was different, it had changed dramatically. The usual stuffy professors were now terrified of him and the other Slytherins. With one word, it would be there head on a silver platter. And Draco couldn't help but feel terrified for them.

Draco looked up at the wall clock. 2:05. And the day still goes on.

Next to the clock, were rows of portraits of past Professors and Headmasters all lined up, some moving and some very still. Dumbledore was there, the one with the less dust collecting. But he was asleep, so peaceful. Not a day goes by that Draco doesn't regret that day, and he might never forgive himself for that.

Suddenly, the door opened, and in walked in Headmaster Snape. He walked swiftly past Draco to the bookshelf behind him, his hand skimming the bindings in search of something.

"Draco," he greeted sullenly, "Shouldn't you be in class?"

"Since when do I ever go to class?" Draco replied nonchalantly, placing his feet on the desk. He heard Snape remove a book and skim through the pages. Draco tapped the glass repeatedly now, earning a groan of annoyance from his Godfather.

"Get your feet off my desk," he seethed. Draco scoffed and removed himself from the desk. Draco took the small hourglass and held it in his hand, shaking it into the light from the window. He sat atop the desk and continued playing with it.

"Must you toy with that?" Snape groaned and sat in his desk.

"It's entertaining," he said, "Mind if I keep this?"

"Pass your next exam and it's yours."

Snape wrote something on some parchment, folded it and placed it in his drawer. He then moved his attention to Draco, who sat bored and doing nothing but fiddling with his hourglass. "I'm growing concerned about you, Draco. Your mother-"

"What about my mother?" Draco asked curiously.

"She says you seem distant. So unlike yourself. Your grades are steadily declining, you don't seem to be socializing with the others, you don't go to meals anymore."

"I have the house elves make me something in the kitchens."

"You don't even return to your dormitory anymore. Where could you possibly be going?"

"That's none of your concer-"

"Yes it is!" Snape spat at him, "I understand that our circumstances are...restricting, but-"

"Restricting?! Really, is that what you call it?! More like hell!" Draco yelled, standing to face his fuming Godfather.

"Watch your tone! The Dark Lord could come upon us at any moment!" Snape whispered as furiously as possible.

"It's not the same, nothing is the same! And it never will be that way again! So what's the point?!"

"Don't think I don't know what this is really about," Snape started, "Or who." Draco glared daggers into his Godfather's eyes, but dramatically felt his heart soften. Before Draco could retort, a knock came at the door followed by Professor McGonagall walking in unannounced. "Severus," she greeted resolutely, "Mr. Malfoy."

"What is it, Minerva? I am particularly busy at the moment."

"The new professors find it fit to hold back students from coming to my class," she complained, "Again."

"That's none of my concern!" Snape shouted.

"As Headmaster of this school, it is your job to protect the students! They punish them, Severus! Brutally! Today I passed by the Hospital Wing and all the beds were full of injured students! How much longer can this go on-?"

"Enough! Just leave!" Snape reprimanded. McGonagall turned abruptly followed by a slam of the door. McGonagall was right, she was absolutely right. Draco pitied almost every muggleborn at the school because of it. Students would show up to the Hospital Wing with bruises and burn marks on their arms or faces. First years were particularly chosen to become target practice for the DADA students and professors. If only McGonagall had become Headmistress, things would be so much different. "And you as well," Snape commanded. Draco looked back at his Godfather knowingly, but received a look of seriousness. Draco scoffed, and before leaving, snatched the hourglass off the desk and exited the office.

Draco stepped off the moving staircase and proceeded into the empty hallways of Hogwarts. It was quiet, almost too quiet. The kind where you know there's something else going on. Draco walked around cautiously, peering around the corners for other Professors. Not that they had a problem with him, but he didn't really feel like having a stimulating conversation about killing muggleborns with other Deatheaters.

As he passed a DADA classroom, the thick wooden doors opened abruptly. Draco ducked behind the nearby wall and watched as Professor Carrow threw one of his students out of the classroom with a wave of his wand. The girl landed abruptly on her arm and cowered away from the menacing man. Carrow backed away and shut the wooden doors.

Draco looked down reluctantly and walked away from the sad scene. Until he heard a stifling sob come up from behind him. Draco was hesitant, but with a groan of agitation turned around and walked over to the girl. The girl was most likely a Fifth Year student, and the blue-striped tie told him she was a Ravenclaw. "You alright there?" Draco asked. The girl looked up and backed away from him.

"You're- you're..."

"Draco Malfoy, Head Boy. I know, don't remind me." Draco held out a hand, but she stood up by herself instead. She wiped her tears away on her sleeve, but silently groaned in pain at the sudden movement.

"Ow..."

"You sure you're alright?" Draco asked.

"I'm fine, I'm used to it."

"I suppose being muggleborn has something to do with that," Draco commented, earning him a glare. _A glare. Such a familiar glare. _"And what gives you the right to just assume, I am a muggleborn?" she asked.

"Am I wrong?" She shook her head. "Then I guess it's because my assumptions are usually correct," he stated mockingly before turning around and walking away. He could hear footsteps behind him and turned around again to find the girl following him. "What do you think you're doing?" he asked, frustrated.

"Going to the Hospital Wing," she announced, "Is that a problem, your highness?" He heard the tone of sarcasm in her voice and sneered at her. "What's your name?" he questioned.

"What's it to you?" she spat.

"Just answer me," he spat back.

"Carina," she replied, "Carina Ambroise."

"Well, _Carina_, the Hospital Wing is full today, don't even bother trying to get in," he pointed out.

"And what am I supposed to do about this?" she pointed to her bruised arm. Draco groaned reluctantly and pulled out his wand. He walked over to her and placed the tip onto her point of pain. She pulled away slightly but Draco kept her arm locked as he muttered a healing spell onto it. He felt her arm ease up and the tension being released. He let her arm fall out of his hand as she moved it around to check if it was alright.

"Th-Thank you," she thanked with a look of shock on her face.

"Don't mention it," he stated, walking away from her.

"But where am I supposed to go now?" she called out.

"Don't know, don't care!" Draco called back, rounding the corner and leaving Carina to her thoughts.

* * *

Draco stepped up into the room and removed his robes and discarded them on the chair. He claimed this room as his own private place, since classes no longer took place there. It was the Astronomy Tower. This was his new home.

He didn't bother asking Snape if it was okay to move up there, because he knew his Godfather was too busy to actually do anything about it. Draco had called this room his own and even placed a small bed in the corner for himself. He liked the privacy, and didn't want to share a common room anymore with the rest of the Slytherins. He had set up a heating charm around the Tower, which kept it nice and insulated for him. He had begun collecting books on the shelves from the library, not bothering to return them either. Along with the bed and the books, he even got a desk in their just for him, even if he didn't actually do work anymore.

Draco discarded his tie and place it on his bed and sat down at his desk. He sighed heavily and breathed in the calm, dusty air that was his private space. From his pocket he pulled out the hourglass he had taken from Snape's office and placed it on the desk. Draco looked through the distorted glass and watched the sand fall through gently.

Through the glass, he saw the outside world of Hogwarts beyond the balcony of the Tower. He supposed that the scenery was the only thing that hadn't actually changed. The birds flew freely through the white clouds and the blue sky, the yellowing leaves of the Dark Forest, and the lush, rolling, green hills that went beyond the horizon.

Such an amazing sight to hold.

And no one to share it with.

Draco thought back to his conversation with Snape earlier. Things weren't the same and he knew exactly what made things different. There was no joy at Hogwarts. No fun. No laughter. Only sadness and the deep thought that the war was upon us and we may not live to see the outcome.

And what made things more terrifying was the fact that _she_ was out there. Somewhere without him, doing Merlin knows what. How much longer would Draco have to wait not knowing what truly went on out there? It felt like he would end up spending an eternity at this god forsaken hell-hole formerly known as Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.

If only he had some way of knowing, or some way of finding out if she was okay. And that would be enough. It would be more than enough. Because she didn't need him in her life. But Merlin knows, he needed her.

_Tap._

_Tap._

_Tap._


	3. Chapter 3

**Song of the Chapter: I Won't Give Up by Jason Mraz **

POP, the loud and drastic pop of apparition echoed through the dense forest and Hermione's ears. She stood on her feet, both shocked and in awe of what just occurred.

He left me.

The bloody git just_ left_ me.

How could she be so stupid? To think that he cared about her enough that he would stay and protect her? But she was wrong. And it was over. He wanted to leave, so he just left. And after all they've been through, it just wasn't right. Nothing was going on between her and Harry, but Ron saw otherwise. She supposed it had something to do with his family, and wanting to know if they were okay. He was also wearing the locket, and maybe that's what caused his outburst.

"Is he gone?" Harry called out.

"Yes," she breathed out. She heard Harry grunt in annoyance from inside the tent, his footsteps pacing back and forth with anger. Ron was being nothing but a selfish, jealous git. And maybe it was for the best that he wasn't there. Her and Harry could now move a bit quicker and they might actually be able to get something done around there.

Hermione returned to the tent and looked downwardly, not wanting to meet Harry's gaze. She supposed she had been spending a lot of time with Harry, but if not for searching for horcruxes then it was strictly friendly purposes. Hermione took her seat on Ron's bunk, still in shock of what just occurred. If you really loved someone, they'd never leave you.

I guess that would make Hermione a hypocrite.

"He just needs time," Hermione stated, "Maybe he'll come back."

"Not bloody likely," Harry grunted. Harry sat next to Hermione on the bunk and paused. He listened to her breathing. Her steady, calm breathing. Not at all erratic. "I think we both knew this would happen," Harry pointed out, "Ron leaving like that." He moved to turn off the radio, its static hiss disappearing and leaving nothing but an eerie silence. "We'll have to move eventually, you know," Harry notified, "If you want, we can leave a port key for him."

"Okay," she breathed out again.

"Are you alright, Mione?"

"I think so, just shocked is all." Harry nodded and patted Hermione soothingly on the back. She couldn't say she wasn't hurt, but she could say that this wasn't the worse pain she's ever felt. Back at Hogwarts, after Dumbledore had passed, she had waited up in the Astronomy Tower for Merlin knows how long. Waiting for what? Maybe a miracle. Or maybe just Draco. And waiting for the one you love is the worst kind of pain there is.

That was her worst pain.

* * *

Hermione and Harry agreed that they would wait one more day for Ron, then they would move out, and leave a port key for him. But for now, things were tense around the two. Unknowingly why, they kept their distance. When Harry was outside the tent, Hermione was inside. And when Hermione was outside, Harry was in.

At the moment, it was late, and Harry fell asleep earlier than usual. Hermione kept her distance by building a fire outside and sitting against the buttress of a tree. She watched the dancing orange and yellow flames of the fire, and with her wand, shot a green flame to watch the colors come to life.

The smell of burning wood was soothing, and normal. It was nice to have a bit of normal in their screwed up world. Everything was changing, and so fast. Too fast for even Hermione to comprehend. Her two friends were now so far away, like seashells on a beach, slowly being drawn into the deep and salty water. It were the choices that have been made that caused it, most of the choices being Hermione's doing.

Often times, Hermione would think back to Draco, and how different things would be if she hadn't fallen in love with him. She would probably be more involved with Ron, and more broken by the fact that he left her. Or maybe she would have gone back to resenting Draco.

But that would be impossible, because if it wasn't love, it was pity. She would pity the life he lives and the choices he made. She would pity his heritage, and their never ending journey to muggleborn genocide. Was it wrong to fall in love with a man you pitied to begin with? Maybe, but would she ever tell him that? Never.

Hermione pulled out from her pocket the map that Harry had taken from her. She decided that it wasn't really worth keeping around anymore. She unfolded it and placed it delicately into the fire, the dancing flames swallowing it. The red lines she drew contrasted with the golden color the parchment and flames created.

Hermione took out her wand, and whilst pointing at her palm, whispered, "Orchideous." A bud appeared in the middle of her palm, along with several others. From the bud sprouted various red petals which faded into a dusty gold color around the ends. Soon enough, she had several familiar flowers in her arms with their indescribable scent.

These were her favorite flowers, because she was given them by a person she loved very much. She had been practicing that spell for a long time and never got it just right until now.

"Nice flowers," the familiar phrase came out of the blue, coming from the front of the tent. Harry stood there with one hand drawn and the other holding the tent's flap. He walked over to the pit of fire and sat across from her. The reflection of the fire prevented her from seeing his eyes. She drew her eyes away from him and back at the flowers, inhaling their scent.

"Do you recall," Harry began, "During Potions, when we were studying Amortentia, what you smelled from the cauldron?"

"That's a rhetorical quest-"

"Just answer it."

"It was grass and new parchment," she said hesitantly.

"And?"

"You already know," she stated calmly, meeting his gaze.

"Now can I tell you what I smelled?" Harry asked, receiving a nod.

"It was Ginny's perfume. If I had smelled anything else at the time, I don't remember it."

"What are you trying to say, Harry?" she asked, unphased.

"I'm trying to say," he replied, "That you aren't alone. You aren't the only person hurting, Hermione. I miss Ginny, with every bit of my heart and here I am still fulfilling what I was meant to do."

"I'm still here too," she pointed out, "And I'm not the one who ran away today!"

"I know that, and I'm thankful for that. But, Hermione, if you don't want to be here, no one asked you to."

"How dare you!" Hermione shouted, standing up, "I have every bit of right as you to be here! This isn't some way of becoming a hero, it's to do what is right! Not what others want you to do! I'm not like Ron! I'm not leaving you, Harry Potter! So don't ask me too!" And with that, Hermione stomped away from Harry, and disappeared into the tent.

* * *

The light from the candle flickered on as she discarded her shirt and jeans and replaced them with her sweatpants and night shirt. She stomped over to her bed and laid down aggravatingly.

What gave Harry the right to tell her to leave?! She wasn't doing this for him! She did it for everyone! She did it for every witch or wizard who was trapped in a society where blood prejudice was rising! She did it for the kids at Hogwarts who lived through hell each passing day! She did this for all those muggles killed by Deatheaters just out of spite! It wasn't her! It was everything!

Hermione sighed breathily and wiped a bead of sweat from her forehead. Wait? Sweat? Why was she sweating? She felt her face and realized she was burning up. She felt around her neck to and realized she was still wearing the locket. She unlocked and set it aside on her bedside table. instantly, she felt relieved. She felt her body return to its normal temperature and let her mind settle in.

"He wasn't telling you to leave, you know," Draco's voice came from the opposite side of the tent. She didn't bother looking up, because she knew it was all in her head.

"I know, it's just...he sounded like he was implying it."

"Even if he said that, he knew that you wouldn't. You're too brave to leave at a time like this."

"Or too scared," she mumbled.

"The point is," Draco began, sitting down on her bunk beside her, "He knows he can't do it alone. And you, sure as hell, won't be leaving anytime soon."

"But what about you? I-I want to see you. The real you."

"In time, love. But I'm at Hogwarts. I'm not in any danger there, you know that."

"I suppose so," Hermione muttered. She then laid back on her bunk and pulled the covers up to her neck. And with one final look at Draco, she fell into an unusually blissful sleep.

* * *

The next morning, after dissembling their tent and scattering the remains of the fire, Hermione took down her shield concealing their hideout. She hadn't said anything to Harry, but he didn't seem to mind.

She then moved towards the tree she had leaned on the night before and wrapped her purple scarf around it, tying the ends together and securing it. With her wand, she whispered, "Portus." The scarf was now a portkey, and if Ron decided to come back, he would find them. She examined the scarf sadly before walking back to Harry.

"Ready?" he asked.

"Yes," she answered before taking his hand and apparating them. The world was temporarily distorted around them, and quite nauseating. The picture soon became clear again, as they found themselves in yet another wood, this time next to a river. The river moved rapidly, and eventually in the distant, reaching a waterfall. She chose a place at random, from the many places she had actually been before when camping with her family.

Most of the leaves had already fallen, leaving not much tree cover. The leaves crunched below her feet as she moved to the nearby tree.

"It's safe," Harry observed, "Where do you find these places, Hermione?"

"I came here once camping with my Father. I liked it, it was peaceful."

"And no one comes here anymore?" He asked. Hermione shook her head and proceeded to put a barrier around their new settlement. Harry then made up their magically extended tent next to the river.

"Mione?"

"Yes?"

"You know...I could never push you away, right? After everything we've been through?"

Hermione turned to look at Harry, who looked at Hermione with a pleading gaze. He hated it when they fought, Hermione as well. And it wouldn't do them any good turning on each other like last night. "Of course I know that, Harry. I shouldn't have snapped at you like that," Hermione apologized, "I'm sorry."

"I'm sorry too. I was just...unsure. I had the feeling that maybe you _did_ want to leave as well. And truthfully, Mione, I'd sort of be lost without you," he admitted.

Hermione chuckled and embraced Harry. "Don't you think I know that?" she agreed mockingly. She pulled away and proceeded to the tent, she paused for a moment to look back at Harry. His back was turned from her, showing that maybe something was on his mind. "And even if I ever left," she began, "You know I would always come back, right?"

"Right," Harry breathed out. She turned away, with a smile on her face and proceeded inside the tent.


	4. Chapter 4

**Song of the Chapter: Gravity by John Mayer**

It was a quiet Saturday morning in the Great Hall. Not many students liked to go out of their dormitories during the weekends if not for their classes. These were usually the times that Draco could actually go to a meal, without being hounded by the others. Not that Draco didn't have enough alone time, it was just better that way he supposed.

Draco had unfortunately built the unhealthy habit of observing others while they were at their tables or in the hallways. And today, he found himself watching Astoria Greengrass chat endlessly with the other Slytherins about what Professor Carrow did the other day to one of his students.

"And then, Carrow lashed out on her, and literally flung her out of class. Little brat deserved it anyway, so I've been told," Astoria gossiped.

"So then what happened?" Pansy Parkinson asked curiously.

"Don't really know. All I know, a mudblood knows better than to raise her hand," she replied nonchalantly, sipping her orange juice. Draco's fork dug into the wooden table, receiving strange looks from the other surround him. It was what this school had resorted to. Punishing students for doing something as simple as raising their hand to answer a question. It was absolutely maddening.

Draco abruptly threw his napkin on his plate and stood, not wanting to hear anymore of it. He pushed aside his peers and exited the Great Hall. What made things worse was that that student could not do anything about it, not even tell Snape. Snape didn't do shit for the school, and still has the nerve to act like he is in charge.

He rounded the corner and headed straight for the Tower. Upon reaching the winding staircase, he paused. The eerie feeling that someone was following him returned to him. He spun around with his wand outstretched.

"Show yourself," Draco threatened.

"Relax, it's me," the voice echoed from around the corner. It was that girl again. Carina. It suddenly dawned on him that maybe the person Astoria was referring to was probably her. "Make a habit of following people?" Draco mocked, pocketing his wand.

"I just want to talk."

"We already are," Draco stated, "Now if you'll excuse me, I have Head duties to attend to."

Draco spun around and took a step up before Carina's voice called out to him, "You're not like the others." He paused a moment to comprehend what she said, and hesitated on the next step.

"You aren't cruel and you don't hurt the others."

"My, aren't we observant? And if that's all, I'll be going then."

"There's one more thing."

Draco kept his back turned away from her, and scoffed, "What?"

"You're alone."

Draco looked downward in thought before mumbling, "I'm reminded of that everyday," before climbing up the Tower steps.

* * *

Later that day, Draco received a letter from his Mother. He hesitated opening it, not wanting to receive any bad news. Or what his Mother usually gave him, fake news.

_Dearest Draco,_

_You've been neglecting to answer my owls. I suppose you are very busy with your Head duties. Your Father and I are so proud of you for that. Things are better at the Manor. We've moved into the Western Wing of the house, considering our "guests" have taken up the entire Eastern side. No matter, we are fine and hope you are too. _

_With love,_

_Mother_

Of course his Mother wouldn't tell him what was really going on. She liked to remain optimistic, even when all hope was lost. Draco loved his Mother dearly, and it was safe to say that she was the better parent for him than his Father, but her constant lying to protect him was irritating and made him feel like she hovered over him everywhere he went.

When he was assigned to kill Dumbledore the previous year, she had secretly made the Unbreakable Vow with Snape, which was originally why he killed him in the end.

That day never ceased to haunt Draco. It could have been the guilt, or the first time he was tortured by the Dark Lord, but most of all, it was the day he had to leave the one he loved to fight many battles without him.

Hermione. That was the last day he saw her, and up until that point he hasn't stopped thinking about her. He guessed she was on some sort of heroic mission with Potter to get everyone out of this mess. That was Hermione, always saving others, always fighting their battles. Draco knew that more than anyone.

_"So many people have brought you down, and taken from you everything you ever wanted. You shouldn't be asking me that question, Draco, because maybe it's time for someone to ask you." She took two steps forward, and gazed directly into his eyes. "Tell me what you want, Draco."_

_"Even if I told you, I wouldn't deserve any of it."_

_"Maybe Draco Malfoy, the Deatheater, doesn't deserve it. But Draco Malfoy, the person..." she breathed out, taking his hand, "deserves everything." This was who Hermione Granger was. She was a person who can see so much more than a mean school bully, or a Deatheater. She saw Draco for what he truly was, and knew that he deserved happiness in his life. She sought a greater purpose within Draco, and found it. Draco always thought of her as a witch who did nothing but pry into others lives and demanded to know every single fact about the world around her, but she was so much more. He always thought he could never deserve someone like her. And here she was, telling him he deserved everything he ever wanted._

_But the truth was, all he ever wanted was her._

Some would say she intervened. Some would say she was a distraction. Most would say he was everything wrong for her. But maybe instead, she was everything right for him.

_Just after the rest of the class left, and Slughorn retreated to his office, Draco carried his things over to the smoking cauldron and set them down next to it. Curiously, he lifted the cover and let the overwhelming scent hit his nostrils with full force. He didn't know what to expect when he smelt it, but the familiar scent of Hermione's perfume overwhelmed his senses. He also found the faint smell of grass she had referred to._

_It bothered him to no end how much that potion smelled like her. It only made him want to see her more, which was exactly what she wanted. He told himself he couldn't or wouldn't. But that's the thing about her, she had a way of drawing you in and making you want her more, and at the same time drive you absolutely fucking crazy._

But he just had to push her away. He couldn't let her into his cruel little world. He wouldn't.

_"I can't hate you if you haven't done anything yet! So just tell me, Draco! Tell me so I don't have to feel like you're just never going to let me in! Tell me so I don't have to feel like you're just going to leave me in the end!" Draco faced away from her furiously. How could he tell her? He couldn't stand seeing her hate him again. He shouldn't have let it go on for too long. Who was he kidding? He was being selfish. He wanted what he couldn't have and was letting her take the consequences._

_"You are going to leave me in the end, aren't you?" It was the forbidden question. The unspoken question._

_"I have no choice, Hermione..."_

But she came back, and he let her.

_She held his hand and with a long loving look, said, "We are the most perfect impossibility, aren't we?"_

_"Absolutely."_

_"And this thing that you're doing now, your mission, it's going to change everything, isn't it?"_

_"Yes."_

_Hermione wiped a tear out of the corner of her eyes and asked, "And when can I ever see you again?"_

_"You won't."_

And even if it was to say goodbye, well, to put it simply: Every moment, of every minute, of every hour, of everyday was well worth it with Hermione Granger. And he wouldn't trade away any of it. That day, she left him in that Hospital wing with tears and a heavy heart. But not without telling him she loved him, and that was what saddened Draco the most.

He broke her heart, and watched Hermione fall apart before his very eyes. Sometimes, he wished he hadn't kissed her that night in the Astronomy Tower, telling her everything she needed to know about him. Sometimes, he wished Hermione would have never spoken to him, so she wouldn't have ended up carrying the burden he called his heart.

* * *

_She must have left her hand on his arm for the longest time, because both of them grew tired of standing and sat together in the corner of the Tower. None had spoken a word yet, and the silence was just so painful to bear. She tucked her right arm under his left and let her thumb continue to rub back and forth against the symbol._

_She wished it was a stain, just a drop of ink on his pale skin that she could wipe away and never have to look at again. Draco didn't want to look at it either, in fact, he kept his head turned in a painfully awkward position just so he didn't have to._

_"This isn't you, Draco," she finally broke their silence._

_"What do you mean?" he asked lifelessly._

_"This...symbol, it's not you."_

_"I'm the one who accepted it. I chose to let the Dark Lord connect me to him. Everything about it is me."_

_"You've let it take your skin, you've let it take your beliefs, but one thing it cannot take..." she paused and placed her other hand on his chest, "is your heart."_

"Draco...Draco, wake up." Draco woke with a start and lifted his head off his desk to meet the familiar brown eyes of Carina, nudging him awake. He quickly reached for his wand and held it up to her neck with rapid speed.

"What are you doing here?" he seethed, "No one is supposed to be up here but me!"

"I ju-just, I-" she stuttered, but could not find the words. He carefully lowered his wand and looked around. It was already dark and he must have fallen asleep at his desk. He forgot that the Astronomy Tower was open to everyone, he just thought that he claimed this territory as his own.

"Leave," Draco commanded solemnly.

"Why are you up here?"

"I said, leave!" Draco yelled, "And don't ever come back." He turned away and set his wand aside near his robes. "N-No," Carina stammered. Draco's eyes lit up, and he turned painstakingly slow with a sneer on his face.

"What did you say to me?"

"I-I said, no."

Draco slammed the girl up against the brick wall behind her, whilst grabbing his wand again and pressing it painfully against her neck. He kept her arms locked to her sides as she whimpered against his masculine form. "What do you want from me?!" he spat.

"I-I find you...interesting," she whimpered. Draco's eyes widened and was suddenly more aware of what was really happening. She _liked_ him. He let her go and took a step back to examine her as if she had just transformed into a Cornish pixie. Carina had long chocolate brown hair and olive skin, with warm brown eyes to match. "I just thought you could use a friend," she stated with a timid voice.

"I don't need friends," he spat again, "And believe me, a girl like you wouldn't want to be friends with someone like me."

"You may be a Deatheater, but that doesn't have to change who you are!"

"Well, doesn't that sound familiar," he mumbled, not realizing he had thought aloud.

"What was that?"

"Oh, nothing. Just...do yourself a favor, and leave while you still can," he said suddenly calmer. Suddenly his mind was filled with images of Hermione and just how similar Carina was to her. Carina gave a huff of defeat and walked to the exit. At the archway, she placed a small hand on the stone wall, and looked behind her at him who was already immersed in his own thoughts.

"It's someone else, isn't it?"

"Yes," he breathed out.

"Well, whoever she is...you should go after her."


	5. Chapter 5

**Song of the Chapter: I Never Told You by Colbie Caillat**

_She must have left her hand on his arm for the longest time, because both of them grew tired of standing and sat together in the corner of the Tower. None had spoken a word yet, and the silence was just so painful to bear. She tucked her right arm under his left and let her thumb continue to rub back and forth against the symbol._

_She wished it was a stain, just a drop of ink on his pale skin that she could wipe away and never have to look at again. Draco didn't want to look at it either, in fact, he kept his head turned in a painfully awkward position just so he didn't have to._

_"This isn't you, Draco," she finally broke their silence._

_"What do you mean?" he asked lifelessly._

_"This...symbol, it's not you."_

_"I'm the one who accepted it. I chose to let the Dark Lord connect me to him. Everything about it is me."_

_"You've let it take your skin, you've let it take your beliefs, but one thing it cannot take..." she paused and placed her other hand on his chest, "is your heart."_

Hermione gasped for air and sat up in cold sweat in her bunk. To her disappointment, she was in her tent, on a dangerous quest, hundreds of miles from Draco. She held her hand on her heart and let a small tear roll down her face. She put both feet on the ground and stood up from her bed, wrapping her blanket around her. Stepping outside, the cold early winter air hit her tear-stained cheeks, drying them and chilling her pale face.

She didn't want to cry every time she thought about him. She had to stay strong. And if Draco was here, she had a feeling he would tell her the same thing. But even heroes have their weaknesses, and hers just happened to be memories.

She looked back into the tent and noticed that Harry was not in his bunk. She suspected that he must have gone for a walk as he normally did, even at this time of night. She's learned to live with it over the past few days, but lately she's been growing concerned for him. Only a few days earlier they were in Godric's Hallow, and encountered Riddle's snake, Nagini, disguised as Bathilda Bagshot. And while they fought the offending snake, she accidentally broke Harry's wand, something she won't be able to forgive herself for. A few moments afterwards, Harry told her about his flashback to his parent's death, and how he saw glimpses of how it happened. It was such a horrific sight for him to face, and having to relive it must have been devastating. Lately, he has been having trouble resting; she can even hear him talk sometimes. _Mum, No. Dad, No. Stop, Don't! _Then she would wake him up and remind him that it was all a dream, and have him fall back asleep, even if that meant reliving it. She did it because she knew he would do the same for her if this was her own situation.

She took a seat on a rock lying next to the river. It was almost pitch black outside, and only the sound of the river could guide her steps carefully around the rock. She removed her shoes and dipped her toes carefully in the rushing stream. The water was frigid and cold, and she was surprised it wasn't already frozen. She felt the bottom and extended her legs to place both feet on the sedimentary bottom.

"Where could he be?" she wondered aloud.

Just then, she heard a rustle come from beyond the trees, followed by hushed whispers. Her blanket dropped to her ankles as she reached for her wand which was usually in her jacket pocket, but suddenly remembered she had already given it to Harry.

Hermione was defenseless against the intruders, but stood her ground and awaited for the disturbance to approach. Taking one step back, she held onto a tree for support and hid behind it.

Two dark shadows moved towards her campsite, and by the looks of it, she could tell one of them was Harry. She moved out of her hiding spot and approached the two boys.

It was then she laid her eyes upon Ron. Ron who had finally decided to return to them. Ron who had left them for his own reason. Ron who was supposed to be her boyfriend, and left her, because he was jealous of something nonexistent.

"Harry?," she called out. The two boys looked up at her, Ron's eyes glistening with regret. "Mione," Ron breathed out, "I-"

But that was enough for Hermione. She turned around abruptly and entered the tent angrily without another word.

* * *

"She won't be forgiving you anytime soon," Harry mentioned, "You know that, right?"

"Sort of expected it," Ron replied, looking over to Hermione hunched over, reading her book against a tree trunk. Ron came the night before, and Hermione was definitely not thrilled to see him. He slept awkwardly in the same bunk he had a few months earlier, without a word coming from the other side of the tent.

"I just want to talk to her," Ron stated, "Maybe even tell her how I destroyed that Horcrux. How was she while I was gone?"

"Alright, I suppose," Harry lied. She wasn't alright at all, distraught even. But not for the reasons Ron would think.

"She wasn't sad that I left?"

"Um...yes. Well, she was crying for quite sometime," he lied again.

"Wow...she really must have missed me then." Harry stayed silent as he looked over to Hermione, who was obviously eavesdropping on their conversation. She wasn't that far away from them, and Ron was hopelessly clueless when it came to private conversations. "Do you think I should try talking to her now?" Ron asked.

"It's now or never," Harry replied. Ron stood and hesitantly made his way over to her. Harry could only watch helplessly, not knowing whether she would tell him there was someone else, or she would just continue lying to his face. This was Hermione's battle, and Harry wouldn't be able to fight it for her this time.

* * *

Hermione heard the crunching of leaves behind her and tried to act as though she was fully immersed in her reading. The whole time she was listening to their conversation, she thought of ways to keep away from him. It wasn't that she didn't want to talk to him, it was because she had no idea what to say to him.

"Hey, Mione," Ron greeted calmly.

"Hello," she stated quietly.

"Can I sit with you?"

No reply.

He took a seat in the leaves next to her and hunched over his knees. She couldn't look at him in the eyes, no matter how much he begged. "Please talk to me, Mione. I'm so sorry I left you, I was just being jealous and stupid. And the whole time I was gone I was thinking of you. I was worried about you, you know?"

She nodded and signaled for him to continue.

"I, um, destroyed the locket, you know? Pretty heroically if I might add. With the sword, Godric's sword."

"That's...great," she tried to say as dejectedly as possible. From the corner of her eye, she saw Ron turning his head back at Harry, probably mouthing to him what he had to do. He turned back around, she could feel his eyes trailing over her. Just then, he put his arm around her small shoulders and kissed her cheek tenderly. She wanted that to feel special to her. She wanted that to mean something. But in total honesty, it didn't. It didn't feel special or romantic, it almost felt sad and pitiful.

"Can you ever forgive me?" he whispered.

"I-I think so," she stated, still not taking her eyes off her book.

"I don't really feel forgiven," Ron admitted, removing his arm from her shoulders. She tried to shrug it off, but she could feel the tension rising within their conversation. Ron scoffed and stood up abruptly, signaling to Harry what he was supposed to do. In return, Harry made eye contact with Hermione, and she could almost hear the words behind his eyes.

_Tell him, Hermione. It's for his own good._

Ron walked back towards Harry, just as Hermione also stood and called out, "Ron, wait." He turned around and finally made eye contact with her. His eyes were filled with disappointment, something she had tried so hard not to look at.

"What?" he scoffed.

"The-There's something I have to tell you."

"Alright, what is it?"

"You just have to promise me something first."

"Ok," he replied hesitantly.

"Just promise me, you aren't going to leave again."

"Why would I?"

She looked at Harry again and read his words through his eyes, _You have no idea. _

* * *

Hermione kept her distance from Ron as he carefully listened to her whole story. The story of how she truly fell in love. Their first meeting at the Astronomy Tower, their continued meetings, how she would sneak away at night to go and see him. And how in the end they left to each other with one another's heart in their hands. She made sure to leave out Harry's part, and Draco's name. It was already too soon and she didn't want him to leave again.

She watched his eyes drastically change from remorse to anger to sadness. And she almost couldn't take it.

And when it was over, he kept his eyes locked to the ground below him. And so did Hermione.

"What's his name?" he asked.

"I can't tell you that. Not yet," she replied. Surprisingly, he didn't pry, or didn't try to comprehend it aloud as he normally did. He kept to himself, something he hasn't done in a long time.

"I love you, Ron. You know that right?"

"Yeah."

"You don't seem as shocked as I thought you'd be."

"I can't say that I'm not hurt, but...I guess I'm just not that surprised."

"What do you mean?"

Ron stood suddenly and made his way over to her. He held out a hand and she grabbed it, lifting her off her feet. He stood close to her, enough to feel her breath on his chin. "Kiss me, Mione," he stated. And just like that, she did. As she normally did of course. It was soft and quick on his lips, pulling away as soon as two seconds passed. "That's how I knew," he said. Ron then pulled away and made his way over to Harry, who was sitting by the fire and pretending not to hear a word of their conversation. Harry looked up through his glasses and immediately said, "I'm not kissing you." Hermione couldn't help but smile.

"Did you know about this?" Ron asked, unphased.

"I'm sorry, mate. I hated lying to you-"

"Just...give me some space for a while, alright? Both of you?" he gestured to his two friends. They merely nodded as he walked away from them and towards the edge of their campsite. "You'll come back, right?" Hermione called out.

"I think so," Ron stated and stepped out of the barrier and into the wilderness. From that point on, Harry and Hermione knew things wouldn't be the same, and that they just reached a new level of dishonesty with one of their closest friends.


End file.
